


Cafe Guy

by curiositykilled



Series: tumblr prompts [9]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 14:58:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12509992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiositykilled/pseuds/curiositykilled
Summary: Keith's phone vibrated, skittering across the tabletop and earning him a couple sharp glares from the tables around him. Ignoring those, he swiped the lock combination across the screen and opened up the text waiting for him.Pidge: coffee nowPidge: y/y





	Cafe Guy

                  Keith blinked again, staring down at his keyboard. Despite his best hopes, his fingers still hadn’t started moving, and when he looked up, the document that stared back at him was a vast expanse of nothingness. He groaned, dropping his head to the wooden tabletop.

                  It was a simple essay. Two pages. Not a big deal. Still, somehow, he couldn’t manage to get the words in order in his brain. He’d start planning out a sentence only for the words to fall out of order as his thoughts drifted elsewhere. He scrubbed at his eyes. Running on four hours of sleep probably wasn’t helping, either.

                  His phone vibrated, skittering across the tabletop and earning him a couple sharp glares from the tables around him. Ignoring those, he swiped the lock combination across the screen and opened up the text waiting for him.

                  Pidge: coffee now

                  Pidge: y/y

                  Shaking his head, Keith sent back an affirmative and leaned back in his chair to wait. Sure enough, Pidge’s reply came back before he could more than lift his gaze from the screen.

                  Pidge: meet at usual spot

                  Pidge: eta 2 min

                  Shoving his phone in his jacket pocket, Keith stashed the rest of his stuff - laptop, two textbooks, half-empty notebook - into his backpack and shrugged it over one shoulder before heading out. The library was stuffed with all the students studying and finishing homework in between classes, and he skirted around over-filled tables and reading nooks on quiet feet.

                  The noise grew as he descended the stairs, comfortable conversation rising up from the group work stations, but it was still fairly quiet. He passed by and escaped into the brisk autumn air outside.

                  The leaves were just starting to change, green turning yellow and orange, and the sky was an artificial blue overhead, nearly one of those default colors on MS Paint. He looked up as he rounded the library corner, smiling a little at the cloudless sky. No season would ever top summer for him, but there was something invigorating in the crisp air of October, in the way the light spilled bright and clear over campus.

                  His and Pidge’s usual meeting spot was one of the metal benches along the back of the library, and as he approached, he spotted her familiar mound of tawny hair. Her head was bowed over her phone, face scrunched up in a frown as her thumbs skittered over the screen.

                  “Hey,” he called as he neared. “Where’re we headed?”

                  Pidge glanced up, lips twitching upwards as she finished typing and shoved her phone in the water bottle pocket of her bag. She started walking as she did so, and Keith fell in step beside her.

                  “Cafe Leon,” she replied.

                  Keith faltered, a hitch in his step causing him to lose Pidge. He caught up in an instant, hastened on by his own worry.

                  “Right now? What about Marmora Cafe? Or Dunkin?”

                  The latter earned him a disdainful glare, and Keith grimaced at his misstep. He and Pidge shared a similar distrust of corporations, and normally he’d never bring it up. As it was, this was an emergency.

                  “I’ve been up for thirty hours,” she said. “I need peanut butter energy balls. I need it.”

                  “I think you probably need sleep instead,” Keith retorted.

                  Pidge raised an eyebrow, looking pointedly at where Keith knew he had some impressive dark circles.

                  “Uh-huh,” she said. “How late were you and Shiro at the shop, again?”

                  Keith grimaced, shoulders slumping, and ceded the point. He and his best friend had been rebuilding a bike for the past six months, and as they grew closer and closer to completion, they both were getting less and less sleep. He was pretty sure Shiro was focusing on the bike to avoid stressing over his capstone projects, but it was hard for Keith to drop a project once he’d gotten going. There had been a couple times in the past few weeks where he’d fallen asleep on the garage floor and woken up to Shiro’s guilty face telling him he should get home.

                  “Still,” he said, refocusing on the important point at hand, “other cafes have energy bars, too. And Red Bull. And really strong coffee.”

                  Pidge paused, turning to face him fully with an intent stare. Keith averted his gaze, trying to affect innocence.

                  “This is about Cafe Guy, isn’t it,” she said flatly.

                  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Keith said.

                  Pidge rolled her eyes and started walking again, this time with a more determined stride. Keith let her go for a few strides before huffing a sigh and hurrying to catch up.

                  “It’s embarrassing!” he said.

                  “Just talk to him,” Pidge retorted.

                  “I do,” Keith groaned. “That’s the problem! The lie’s gone too far.”

                  Pidge reached up to rub at her forehead, knocking her glasses off-kilter. She adjusted them absentmindedly and gave Keith a pointed side-eye.

                  “You sound like Lance,” she warned.

                  Keith scrunched up his nose, reflexively insulted. Though he and Lance had grown out of their freshman year rivalry to become something like friends, he’d gotten too used to reacting in a set manner whenever they were compared to get past it.

                  “We’re not in a soap opera, Keith,” Pidge continued. “Just be honest with him. Or don’t and come up with a clever way to get his name without telling him that even though you’ve known him for two and a half years you can’t actually remember his name.”

                  Whether the condemnation in Pidge’s voice was real or imagined didn’t really help Keith feeling a sour twist of guilt at her description. It was mortifying, if he was honest. He’d been going to this cafe since freshman year, often enough to have a fairly good idea of the so-called Cafe Guy’s schedule. Because he was there every time Keith went in on weekdays. For two and a half years.

                  The worst part, of course, was that Cafe Guy clearly knew him - had recognized him by name at the start of sophomore year. The guy was like sunshine incarnate - soft eyes and a big smile and the kind of genuine interest that made it seem like he really cared about Keith’s answer when he asked how he was doing.

                  And Keith had no idea what his name was.

                  It was a terrible tragicomedy, the type that was nothing but fitting for Keith’s life. Of course he’d meet a gorgeous, kindhearted guy and proceed to fake his way through every interaction for a year and a half.

                  Catching himself, Keith grimaced at his own whining. Okay, maybe Pidge had a point about Lance rubbing off on him. Although… he nearly cringed at the thought. Taking a pointer from Lance might not be a bad solution. Swallowing his pride, Keith turned to Pidge with his most beseeching expression.

                  “Please, Pidge,” he begged. “You know I’m not clever. Remember when I asked Shiro out?”

                  As expected, Pidge blanched immediately. The memory was one Keith avoided bringing up generally, but now wasn’t time to half-ass. Pidge had been the sole witness to the tragic and extremely drunk disaster of freshman Keith asking his gorgeous CA out at three in the morning. It had started with Keith lying facedown on Shiro’s carpet and ended with him huddled in a mound of blankets, puking in Pidge’s bathroom.

                  “Do you really want a repeat of that?” he asked.

                  “God, no,” Pidge breathed, horrified. “No one wants that.”

                  A distant part of Keith was offended by the absolute terror with which she said it, but the more rational part of him echoed the sentiment – vehemently.

                   “So you’ll help me?” he asked.

                  Pidge heaved a sigh, throwing her hands up. “Fine.”

                  Keith grinned, relief washing through him. Pidge raised a finger at him, though, forestalling too much optimism.

                  “But first,” she said, “peanut. butter. balls.”

                  Keith rolled his eyes but followed her without further complaint the rest of the way to the café. It wasn’t the one Keith frequented the most – Marmora Café was closer to his apartment and ran specials on Monday mornings – but he’d been here enough for the broad windows and white walls to be a familiar sight. Inside, the café turned half into an indie art gallery: local artists’ works hung on all the walls, neat little black placards telling their creator and medium.

                  Pidge didn’t spare these a single glance as she beelined to the baked goods display case. It was a small miracle she didn’t start drooling then and there, Keith thought; her eyes were about the size of CDs as she gazed longingly at the pyramid of peanut butter bites on the top shelf. She’d discovered them last year and somewhere in the midst of finals gotten addicted. They were, as any baked good in Café Leon, delicious, but Keith was pretty sure Pidge’s fervent belief that they could fully replace sleep was a delusion.

                  “Keith! Hey!”

                  Dread settled heavily in Keith’s stomach as he turned to that familiar voice. Sure enough, Café Guy stood at the register, smiling. His smile made it all so much worse. No one that nice deserved to have their name forgotten.

                  “Hey,” Keith replied, shoving his hands in his pockets and shuffling after Pidge.

                  Pidge lifted a hand to wave absently at Café Guy, but her focus was quickly redirected when one of the other baristas came to ask what she wanted. Café Guy waved Keith past her to the register, a fond look crossing his face as Pidge set about ordering her peanut butter balls and coffee.

                  “Cinnamon latte?” Café Guy guessed.

                  “Uh, no,” Keith said. “Just a large dark roast.”

                  Café Guy winced, ringing up the order. When he’d finished, he gave Keith a sympathetic look.

                  “Settling in for the long haul, huh?” he asked.

                  Keith could never decide whether it was unnerving or sweet that Café Guy recognized his different orders and what they meant. He wasn’t used to someone paying that much attention to him, and it sent a tentative thrill of delight at the same time that it worsened the guilt in his stomach.

                  “Yeah, I guess,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Gotta get an essay done.”

                  Café Guy ‘oohed’ sympathetically and accepted the wrinkled bill Keith passed over. He paused before typing it into the register, though.

                  “You sure you don’t want something more substantial than just coffee?” he asked. “I just made a fresh batch of pumpkin bread.”

                  Keith hesitated, about to say no before he looked at Café Guy’s hopeful expression. A dollar ninety wasn’t that big a deal.

                  “Sure,” he said. “Thanks.”

                  Café Guy beamed. _Sunshine,_ Keith thought again, a little manic. The guy had a way of smiling with his whole body, as if his very skin was infused with happiness.

                  “Do you bake everything here?” he asked.

                  Café Guy looked up, smiling a little still. There was a hint of pride in the expression, as if he knew exactly how good his baking was. Which, to be fair, he probably did.

                  “Yeah,” he said. “I’m doubling in culinary sciences, so it’s fun to experiment a little.”

                  “Culinary sciences?” Keith echoed, storing that tidbit away with the meager information he had about Café Guy.

                  “Yeah, I know. People are always surprised to combine engineering with cooking,” Café Guy said as he stepped around the display to pull out a slice of pumpkin bread. “But you’d be surprised how related they are.”

                  Keith found himself smiling a little in reflection of Café Guy’s enthusiasm as he accepted the brown paper bag. He was pretty sure it was a form of hypnosis, based on what came out of his mouth.

                  “I’d love to hear about it some time,” he said.

                  Café Guy froze and Keith’s heart skipped a beat before Café Guy smiled, small and private.

                  “Yeah?” he asked.

                  “Yeah,” Keith said, riding the swell of this unexpected confidence. “It’d be great.”

                  A throat cleared to his right, and Keith glanced over to realize a line had formed behind him. Pidge’s expression was blatantly gleeful, but the rest of the customers couldn’t be described similarly. Keith winced, clutching his pumpkin bread a little closer.

                  “Oh, um, your coffee will be right up,” Café Guy said hurriedly, turning to Pidge.

                  Disappointed, Keith trudged over to a table by the window. It was dumb to think that today he’d suddenly be smooth enough to get Café Guy’s number, but it had been going so well.

                  He settled into his seat and pulled out his laptop, opening up that still-blank page. He’d gotten no further when the other barista called out his order, and he trudged over to retrieve his coffee with a cloud of despondency settled over his shoulders. He returned, sitting the cup down beside his laptop and turning back to the unwritten paper.

                  “Oh my god,” Pidge mumbled through peanut butter.

                  He looked up, half-expecting her to be choking on the energy balls. Instead, she was staring wide-eyed at his cup. He followed her gaze and found nothing – just the usual white cup and black logo. He turned back to her, squinting in confusion. Rolling her eyes, Pidge pointed emphatically at the cup.

                  “Turn it around!” she ordered, though the words were barely understandable.

                  Doing so reluctantly, Keith froze. Black Sharpie was scrawled over the back of the cup in quick, peaked letters and a phone number. He read through them once, them twice, and then a third time before turning to Pidge with a grin and the words committed to memory.

                  _From one Hunk to another, how about a date? :)_


End file.
